Sick Day
by Plushie Heartless
Summary: Tyson doesn't feel well, so he skips out on practice, however... someone isn't going to let him off so easily. [TYKA, Oneshot]


Heartless: Heya! I made some changes thanks to 'Yaoi Queen' Serene Careening...

Serene: --;; Your shonen-ai was so light, one of you reviewers actually had to **ask**...

Heartless: TT.TT I know, I know...But I think no one will have questions now... I think.

Kai: Hn. And you can't write me as 'stoic' as I should be.

Heartless: (sobsob) ...So cruel! I'm trying... but my twisted sense of humor slips in!

Kai: Hn. As you can probably see, Beyblade is not owned by Plushie Heartless, and there is no profit made from this. (rolls eyes and goes back to doing... whatever it was he was doing. Brooding probably.)

Heartless: Hm, a warning to the wise, there's some cussing in here! (This IS T rated) Kai gets a little PO'd. :D... and this IS a Tyka, meaning Tyson/Kai lurve... Fluff, really... hopefully... If you don't like it, meh. Your problem. Enjoy! ...I hope.

* * *

-

On that frosty December morning, when Max delivered the bad news in an almost gleeful tone, Kai was understandably irritated - but not surprised. It could not be said by anyone that a certain Tyson Granger did not love Beyblade, however, **training **he cared for… not so much. Last practice the captain had noticed the upbeat Beyblader was sniffling slightly... so it was inevitable that the Dragon would use a cold to skip out sometime soon.

Sigh.

Tyson was once remarked as the 'heart and soul' of the team… and Kai had to agree. The BBA team just wasn't the same without him, and it showed; Kai had to make Kenny run ten laps just to get the usual quota of whining from the group.

Now, the Russian knew he could simply let this slide, let Tyson have his sick day. The navy-haired teen might have deserved it, as he _did_ work hard to be the best he could be… and his health was important… Very important, especially to** some **members...

If something ever happened to Tyson, Kai's own heart might just…

But at the same time, that smug, disturbingly knowing smile Ray was giving him as he processed the news was making it VERY hard to rationalize this. He knew- _they_ knew- he wouldn't let Max or the aforementioned Neko-jin get away with this – so any mercy on his part would be viewed as 'favoritism'! The very thought was unacceptable. The only course of action had to be visiting the 'ill' Dragon.

…to make sure he was okay… for the _team's_ sake.

Snapping more orders – that sure wiped the silly grins from both Max and Ray's faces – the Russian stormed out.

* * *

- 

The blasted phone was ringing again.

From the lumpy mass of blankets piled upon a certain person's bed, a familiar tanned (if gloveless) hand emerged, lifting the receiver up. Drawing it into his cocoon of warmth, Tyson pressed the freezing plastic to his ear and croaked out, "Moshi-moshi?"

"Kai's coming to get you!" chirped Max, directly to the point.

On any other day, this would be an occasion to celebrate at the good fortune, draw up a devious plot and think of all the ways he could possibly annoy Kai into doing something delightfully brash. Today, it was a headache.

"Thanks, Maxie." Tyson said in a dry (if congested) tone, expelling the foul, cold, LOUD _thing_, not bothering with the hook.

Settling back into his soft, warm bed, the sick teen chose the procrastinator method - to deal with Kai when he came.

* * *

-

Evil 'Death Glares' it seemed, had no power when it came to opening doors. Violet eyes narrowed further as the unresponsive flat surface that showed no signs of yielding up oblivious, cute, and utterly frustrating slackers (not really, but don't ever tell Tyson that or he really will become a slacker with complacency...).

Did Tyson think Kai would just **give up** and **leave** if he didn't answer the door?

Didn't Tyson know Kai** _better _**than that?

Rapping on the door for the fourth time, his glare had risen to 'Daggers and Other Methods of Extreme Suffering'. If that door didn't open in the_ next minute,_ the Russian vowed he was going to break into the damn Dojo if he had to.

…And it was looking as if he had to.

Striding purposefully towards one of the windows, Kai cracked his knuckles and allowed himself a wicked smirk. A pity for Tyson, his captain wasn't above things like this…

Once inside, the violet-eyed Beyblader headed straight for the "slacker's" room. Finding yet another closed door (he was growing quite a hate for the vile things), he knocked…well, 'harshly pounded' may have suited his action better. The only response was an 'EEP!' and obvious sounds of movement. Kai couldn't stop the frustrated growl from rising in his throat. Here he was, worried about the little twit, and Tyson was playing around! He pulled on the handle, but to no avail- It was locked.

Not trusting his mouth at the moment, Kai used a trick he had learned to unlock the door. It was actually rather disturbing, how Kai knew all this… The Russian turned doorknob, pushing it open to find…

Tyson's room was typical of any boy his age- a complete and utter wreck. Discarded clothes scattered everywhere, quite literally, mingling with the oceans of junk food wrappers, at least one of every kind imaginable littering the floors. Among the wreckage, piles of magazines, pizza and other assorted take-out boxes, manga, VHS, DVDs, textbooks, and random slips of paper rose like great towers of Utter Doom. What had Kai been expecting? The place was obscenely sloppy, and so completely Tyson...

However, most typical male rooms did NOT have a quivering lump of blankets perched upon their beds.

"Tyson"

The lump made a sudden jerk, then the thing inside began to squirm madly. A face appeared. "Kai?" Tyson leapt to his feet on the mattress, covers falling around him dramatically as wads of tissue flew up into the air. "DAMMIT, Kai! Don't scare me like that! I though you were one of those home-invaders and I was gonna ambush you!" To prove his seriousness, he waved the...lamp...in his hands threateningly as he hopped up and down in anger.

Kai stared.

**Not** because Tyson was wearing nothing but boxers and a gray t-shirt reading 'Hail to the King' (though it had been a while since he'd seen those legs without the jeans...).

Or because Tyson was actually _multitasking_, jumping and flailing like that.

Or because it was revealed that Tyson HAD kept those really high socks.

Tyson's 'Indestructible Ponytail' was undone, soft navy strands falling haphazardly over his shoulders and face. Either it had fallen out during his sleep, or he hadn't bothered to tie it back, but the affect was... Kai's mind supplied him with one word – '_whoa_'.

Tugging on his now uncomfortably warm scarf, the Russian tried to pay attention to the younger teen currently ranting (in a strangely hoarse voice) how, '_Kai should give him some **warning,** instead of just breaking in! Which **was** illegal- breaking and entering, y'know!_'

Kai cut the Beyblading Champ off with, "Considering how you would not open your front door, I doubt you would have let me in anyway."

"Augh! Well!" Tyson paused to cover a cough. "What...what are you doing here?"

A positively evil smirk lit Kai's features. "I came to see you... and I'm so glad to see you're doing well, _Tyson_."

The chipper teen flopped down, the mattress bouncing him back up a little. He crossed his feet at the ankles and offered the taller teen a sheepish grin. "Heh heh... I do feel a _little_ better."

Violet eyes flickered over Tyson's face. Oh hell, now that he looked, his teammate's nose was pretty red, there were bags under those big brown eyes, and he _did_ look a little pale under that tan...

"How are you?" The blue-and-gray haired Beyblader asked softly. Tyson visibly perked up, color returning to his cheeks in a flash.

"Um..." The navy-haired teen's voice was scratchy. "Like someone stuck a rabid cat down my throat and left it there all night."

Right. Kai didn't even try and understand the logic behind that analogy.

"Hn." The Russian still felt inexplicably annoyed by the fact that for a sick person, Tyson still seemed pretty energetic. His lip curled in a sneer. _"So_ _sorry_. You won't be able to yell 'Let It Rip' for a while."

Stepping over a particularly large tower of manga he didn't recognize (Demon Diary? FAKE? Gravitation? Naruto? ...Tyson had such weird taste...), Kai opened the top drawer of his teammate's dresser to find... Shit, his underwear. Feeling eyes boring into his back, Kai hurriedly shut it and opened the next. He rummaged through until he found ...twelve of those yellow t-shirts Tyson loved to wear (So he did have more than one...), and a wrinkled pair of jeans.

He tossed them both to the teen who was currently rapidly blinking, as if coming out of a daze. Kai mentally rolled his eyes – his **back** wasn't that interesting to stare at, was it? Actually, the chocolate gaze had been angled a little lower...

"Kai?"

"Get dressed." He commanded. "If you have enough energy to bounce around, you have enough energy to Beyblade."

Tyson wasn't listening, too busy crawling back beneath the blankets. Kai resisted the insane urge to bang his head against something – after all, who knew what was growing on the surfaces in this natural disaster of a room. The Russian maneuvered through the mess (Not an easy task) and sharply tugged on the covers.

"Noo! Bright light, bright light!"

"Tyson..." Kai started, irritated.

"I don't wanna get everyone else sick!" Was the next lame excuse.

The navy-haired teen was unearthed again, and this time, his captain got a good grip on his arm. And blinked back in surprise.

"Hey, you do feel kind of warm..." Kai noted, loosing his hold on Tyson's arm. Now very sleepy brown eyes gazed up at him from half-lowered eyelids... He _really_ didn't look well, mumbling in an incoherent grumble.

Pressing his hand to Tyson's cheek, which had to be the best thing after feeling a person's forehead... Because did he DARE try and move those sharp-looking, messy bangs? Well, even Tyson's face was- "Gah, you're burning up..." His expression turned into that of a scowl. "Dammit, Tyson... you should be resting, not exerting yourself like this."

They both smiled at the irony in those words before Tyson quite promptly dropped out of consciousness. Swatting the top of the sleeping teen's head lightly, Kai muttered a soft "You little idiot," before turning and exiting the room.

* * *

"That was a weird dream," A fully awake Tyson commented, getting up. "I dreamt Kai was going through my underwear." But damn it all, his headache was back, in full force. Like someone was beating his skull with a really big mallet and watching, sadistically amused, as he tried to recover, before slamming it into his head again. 

Stumbling out of bed- he really needed to clean this place up sometime- the teen, through some great feat of willpower, got himself out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

"Tyson, go back to bed." A deep voice ordered.

Strangely enough, his headache actually seemed to lessen a little. Maybe the scary tone in his Grandfather's voice startled the mallet-user.

"Gotta get some more asprin." He replied. "My head is killin' me..."

Whataminute. Gramps had a big concert today (His hip-hop mixes scored big at the Senior Citizens' Recreation Center, but all the grannies couldn't stay up too late, so it was a daytime event). No one was supposed to be home. Whipping his head around – oh, that hurt! The room was spinning... Oh... – Tyson's wide brown eyes met a very interesting sight.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is Kai in my kitchen boiling water?"

Standing with his hands pocketed and glaring at the pan of simmering... stuff, was Kai. "I'm making soup, actually."

Sliding up to the taller teen with a thoroughly amused grin, Tyson leaned over and - "It smells like hell."

Kai smirked, an almost demonic gleam in his eyes. "Wait until you see how it **tastes**."

They stood there for a moment, both letting their eyes rest on the simmering concoction of what appeared to be utter doom for Tyson. Simply put, there was just too much green **stuff** in that yellowish liquid to be healthy.

"I'm not really going to have to eat that, am I?"

"Have to-" Kai cleared his throat. "Have to fix that 'rabid cat' problem."

Tyson twitched, blushing. Then it clicked. "Then it wasn't a dream – you _did_ go through my underwear drawer!"

A delightful red color spread across the violet-eyed Russian's cheeks. "I was looking for your clothes." He replied huffily.

Arching an eyebrow, Tyson gave a small, "Uh-huh."

Kai cleared his throat again. "Why don't you get your medicine and get back to bed? I'll bring this in to you in a minute." He moved to open a few cabinets, searching...

"...Sure." Reaching across the taller Blader – Boy, did Kai's pale complexion flash those colors! He was a bright red! – Tyson pulled out a bowl and gave it to him. Then the younger teen moved away to grab some water and a few of those wonderful pills.

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on a cleared space on his floor (Didn't want to risk spilling on his bed), Tyson held a spoon close to his wary mouth and ventured to ask, "What's in this, anyway?" 

The dark, sadistic gleam was back in Kai's violet eyes, even stronger than before. "_You don't want to know_."

"...Right." He put it in and resisted the need to gag- It was almost obscenely foul. "So, where'd you learn to make this, Kai? Sometime in Russia?"

Kai closed his eyes, saying nothing for a long while. Back against Tyson's wall, one leg bent, the other stretched out, he was in perfect "Mr. Mysterious" mode... there would be no answers from Kai, apparently. But as each silence-filled minute passed, Tyson's headache pounded in again. When would that medicine start working, dammit!

Finally, after he had choked down almost half of the despicable soup (and cultivated a blazing headache), Kai informed him, "...I wasn't at my friendliest when with The Blitzkrieg Boys. There was... a lot of watching television during that tournament... Especially when we were in New York."

Tyson stared, unsure of well... life, the universe, and everything.

"The channels over there aren't pretty midday. Food TV was the best thing on."

"You got this recipe... from Food TV?"

"Emeril, to be exact."

The navy-haired teen laughed, causing Kai's cheeks to flame uncomfortably (and adorably). "Are you serious!"

"...yes..."

"Dude." Pause "_Dude_! Serious?"

Kai made to stand. "...I should leave."

Reaching out best he could, Tyson tugged on one of the Hiwatari's hands and whined, "Aw, stay a little while longer?" One thick gray brow rose. "Please?" Tyson flashed a puppy-dog look stolen from Maxie.

The Russian visibly started. Huh... well, even Kai was human, he supposed. Grinning triumphantly behind a mask of pitiful-ness, Tyson practically pleaded (As world champions never _truly_ humbled themselves like that), "It's not every day we have a civil conversation..." Total lie, but an uneasy look flickered within those violet eyes. Kai really didn't think they got along badly, did he? Sure, they fought a lot, but most of the time, it was over really silly things, and they weren't ever serious...

All the same, Tyson jutted out his lower lip in an attempt to look as pitiful and needy as possible.

For a minute, it seemed like the Russian was going to leave, despite Tyson's valiant efforts, then relaxed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Doesn't matter." Tyson replied easily, scooting over so he sat right next to the team captain.

Kai blinked, turning that _very interesting_ shade of red. "Uh...Sure..."

The world champ slowly leaned against his old friend, careful for the bowl of evil still in his hands. The blader was turning purple. Balancing the soup with one hand on his knees, Tyson reached up with the free one and lightly tugged on the dark back of Kai's hair.

"Kai... I've always wondered... Do you dye your hair?"

Kai had that wide-eyed, pinpricks for pupils look Tyson hadn't seen since the world championship finals... except, this sort of reminded him of a deer in the headlights...

"Just wondering, I mean... I've never seen you with your roots showing or anything, but you have to admit, it **is** rather unusual to have two colors..." The navy-haired teen grinned to show he was just kidding. "Not that I haven't seen it before."

"That's-" For a moment, it looked like Kai was about to say something insulting, then he smirked and finished, "-Confidential. But you tell me... are those spikes as sharp as they look?"

Now it was Tyson's turn to arch an eyebrow. "Wanna find out?" he teased, not expecting Kai to actually DO anything and simultaneously assuring Kai that he would _not_ lose a finger, so...

One hand rose to gently cradle Tyson's tanned cheek, the other rising to run through the large, anime points. Then to the softer-looking bangs splayed over his face... It was only after Kai's threaded fingers had moved to the base of the smaller teen's neck that he realized that he wasn't being very... well, _Kai_. That, and if he turned his head just so, they could almost kis-

And Tyson tilted his head just that way, pressing his lips to Kai's. Both lips remained firmly sealed, but all the same, it was strangely... _nice_... warm and comfortable, even... AND INTENTIONAL!

Kai, to the disappointment to EVERYONE (including himself) jerked back, cheeks blazing a lovely color of beetroot.

"I, ah, uh... You're sick, Tyson."

The teen blinked, horribly confused and feeling a little rejected (only a little, as Kai hadn't started glaring, stormed out, or in the worst-case scenario screamed homophobic obscenities in Russian... but rather, the Beyblader was touching his mouth softly, looking wonderfully dazed).

And what did being under the weather have to do with ANYTHING?

"Don't want your cold spread to me, right?" Violet eyes looked everywhere but at him. "That IS one of the reasons why you're not attending practice..." Oh, damn. His own fever-induced words were being used against him...AGAIN...Tyson didn't bother trying to not look cheated.

A strange silence settled over the pair, and they both knew that right now, certain things could remain unsaid, waiting for a better day. Tyson grinned and looked down at the bowl which had miraculously not spilled (or it was possessed, which would make SO much more sense). Then he grimaced.

"Do I have to-"

"Yes. It's good for you." Then, smirk returning, Kai began to explain with sick amusement what exactly was in the soup Tyson now referred to as 'Hell in Liquid Form'... but the World Champion couldn't help but smile as Kai's low voice floated around him pleasantly. Taking another (disgusting!) slurp, Tyson thought wickedly that maybe he should get sick more often...

"Hey, Kai?"

"Hm?"

"...Thanks, pal."

"Whatever."

And Kai was blushing again.

* * *

Heartless: I always cut off at the good part... or cut off before there CAN be a good part. (sigh) Thanks to Serene, I had them play with eachother's hair! Sorta. 

Serene:...

Kai: x.x You said you **weren't** going to include a kiss...

Heartless: So? I figured, why not? I'll go all out! ...Anybody out there read 'Fruits Basket'? That's what Kai reminds me of, sorta... In vol 5, when Tohru gets sick, Kyo makes her some soup! And initial Tyson's reaction to Kai in the kitchen is distinctly Shigure-like, I think... Drop a review if you know what I'm talking about. Leave one even if you don't!

Kai: Hn... (wears a sign around his neck reading, 'Please Give Encouragement to Idiots') Did anyone get where Tyson was actually staring when I rummaged through his drawers? She's worried that she was too subtle...

Heartless: And I'm surprised no one's called me in for ellipsis abuse. I'm awful :D


End file.
